


All the Stars in Texas

by Superunnatural_Supersass



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:51:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superunnatural_Supersass/pseuds/Superunnatural_Supersass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Castiel Novak gets his first big case after joining the FBI, but he isn't prepared for a pair of criminals in a '67 chevy.  Castiel soon learns that not everything is what it seems as he gets pulled deeper and deeper into the duo's madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Stars in Texas

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking a look! I hope you like it (please be gentle, constructive criticism is always appreciated). Throughout this fic I'm going to try to address some very serious topics in the most human way possible (I will always attempt to tag trigger warnings - but if you think I missed something please let me know and I'll fix it ASAP).
> 
> I'm looking for more BETA readers, if you think you'd like to help out (or just want to talk) please shoot me a message - my tumblr is Superunnatural-supersass.tumblr.com

        One by one the snowflakes faded out of existence, melting as they alighted on concrete. The intermittent rain of the afternoon had hardened as day bled into night, drops becoming flakes while the sidewalk turned slick with black ice. Almost everyone had gone home at this point; it was getting late and the adrenaline of the afternoon was long gone. The moon peered haughtily through wisps of frigid fog as she rose ever higher.           
                                                                          
  


       “Hey Novak, do you think you could make yourself useful and get some coffee or something?  Since you’re just loitering out there.” The harsh bark hurled Castiel out of his daydreams.  “Hazelnut black, and get Milton a regular french vanilla . Be quick about it.” Castiel didn’t even bother replying, he knew the conversation was over.  Senior Agent Zach Harper was in a particularly foul mood that day. Castiel tried to ignore the fact that he was a highly trained and dangerous government agent getting sent on a coffee run.

       The young man kicked a pebble, sending it skittering across the semi-frozen street , and began trudging towards the illuminated starbucks sign two blocks away.  This wasn’t what he’d expected when he packed his bags and left his job in a quiet suburban precinct to train for the FBI. He’d made it through at top of his class and was determined to succeed on his first real case as a federal agent.  He just wasn’t aware that the case would involve so much research into small-town coffee shops.

       Castiel didn’t blame Zach for being grumpy.  They’d been at the crime scene for nearly eight hours already, after the two-hour drive it took to get there, and hadn’t turned up one piece of useful evidence. This heist was exactly the same as the last four Novak had seen since being added to the case, and there were many more before those.

       The media had dubbed the recent rash of mysterious robberies the “Phantom Heists”.  At this point Castiel was starting to think that it would make sense if the criminals actually were ghosts after twenty nearly identical burglaries across the country in under a year, with hardly any leads or evidence.  The case made the department look ridiculous and the higher ups were furious.

  
       Forty-eight.  Castiel sighed.  Forty-eight cracks in the pavement between the bank and the Starbucks.  It would have been better if it were a nice round fifty, but then again the day hadn’t gone well to begin with.  He had spent the last six hours canvassing the neighborhood with no results.  Not one person besides the bank teller saw what happened, and she was as useful as the last twenty something. 

       Luckily he arrived at the coffee shop right before it closed; rich, sugary sweet air wafted over him as he opened the door.  He placed his order with the barista and pulled several paper napkins from their dispenser in case the coffee spilled.  Castiel folded them into perfect squares, tucking them into the pockets of his slightly soggy trench coat as he waited. Each robbery had been the same: right before the business was about to close, when there was only one or two employees left who were about to lock up, the Phantom struck.  The criminal would rush in wearing a mask, point a gun at the employee and demand whatever money they had quickly on hand.   The alarm would get triggered, but they were always in, out, and gone by the time police arrived. They always checked for dye packs, which could be hidden in the cash to explode and foil their escape, and never bothered with funds or valuables in safes, which would presumably take too long and ruin their plans.  Mostly they hit banks, but they had also visited a few convenience stores. The strange thing about the string of thefts was that even though they had witnesses and the banks typically had decent security measures, they still didn’t even know what the intruders looked like.  In every heist the alarm would go off, but the video surveillance was stopped just as the burglary began.  No clues as to how they did it, it was like magic.  Without cameras they were forced to go on witness statements, but even those were proving fruitless.  Each witness seemed to describe a different perpetrator.  The authorities remained baffled.  
   
  
           Beverages stacked orderly in a cardboard tray, Castiel trudged back down the street towards the scene of the crime.  The tray warmed his fingers, but he was glad that he wore both his government-mandated-suit and a long tan trenchcoat to keep out the biting chill.  One two three four… Ninety seven steps until he was back at the door of the bank, frustrated that it couldn’t have been an even hundred and silently cursing his unlucky day.  He shuffled three extra steps while gingerly pushing through the entrance, careful not to spill his cargo.  It wasn’t the same as having 100 normal steps, but it would have to do.

         “Agent Milton, here’s your coffee,” Castiel called to the weary redhead taking notes from the bank manager.   She gave a slight wave and continued scribbling on her notepad.

        “I keep telling you, Anna is just fine, especially if you come bearing gifts,”  Agent Milton replied accepting the cup from him.  Castiel nodded, knowing that he would continue to call her Agent Milton.  He wanted to be professional.

        “What a day, what a day,”  Agent Harper blew into the lobby, grabbing his drink from the junior agent as he went, “Nothing useful, as usual.  I think we’re just about done here.  I gotta drive back home tonight, it’s my niece’s birthday tomorrow and my brother would kill me if I didn’t show up to help with the little monsters, but HQ okayed funds for you guys to book rooms.  Help them lock up tonight, then follow up again with the local boys in blue tomorrow and we should be done here.  Sound good?“  It wasn’t a question.  Castiel and Anna nodded and wished him a safe drive.  Castiel was secretly glad to be rid of his boss; the man constantly watching over them and bulldozing around made him anxious.

       Castiel called and booked them a couple of rooms at the nearest motel while his partner started sending people home and collected their copies of the surveillance tapes with all the non-evidence.  Soon it was just the two of them and the bank manager remaining, waiting to lock the door behind them.   Something nagged at the back of Castiel’s mind.  His partner was waiting for him at the door, but he just couldn’t escape the nervous feeling that they’d missed something.  Although that was how he felt all the time.

       “Do you mind if I take one more walk around, I think I might have dropped something.”  The bank manager, an elderly man in an unflattering grey suit, frowned.

       “It’s okay, he’s just a little OCD, he needs this” he heard his partner whisper. He blushed. “Alright, but I’m beat so I’m gonna go get some sleep.  See you in the morning!”  She told him, quickly hiding the pity in her eyes with an overzealous smile.

     “I’ll lock the door now, you’ll be able to open it from the inside but don’t forget anything or you’ll be stuck,” the manager warned. Agent Novak nodded, waving them out.  He was ashamed of their pity.

  
  
      His dress shoes clicked slightly on the shiny tile floor.   The building showed hardly any evidence of its traumatic day.  Thirty ceiling panels in the main lobby.  He moved on to one of the hallways.  Castiel was so absorbed in his thoughts as he scoured through the empty building, pocket flashlight in hand - checking that all the doors and windows were locked, that he almost didn’t notice the tile.  Almost.

      Agent Novak was on the third floor about to go into one of the offices when he saw it.  He counted fifteen ceiling tiles in the hallway, just like in every other hall of the building, but one of them was not quite right.  Tile number nine was askew.

      The agent frowned.  Perhaps someone working on the building’s lighting had been sloppy.   He stood underneath number nine and reached up.  When he balanced on the balls of his feet he could just grip the frame and the tile. He tried to slide the crooked piece back into place, but it wouldn’t budge.  He gave another tug.  Stuck.  He repositioned his fingers and pulled as hard as he could.

He didn’t expect the ceiling to come falling down on him. 

 

      Castiel brushed away broken bits of tile and an immense weight rolled off him. Suddenly he could breathe again. He reached for his flashlight which had rolled a few feet away.   A light cough nearby broke his daze, and he whirled the flashlight around.

      _Someone_ had just fallen on top of him out of the ceiling.  The man was scrambling to his feet. He gave Agent Novak one look and spun on his heels, racing for the stairwell.  Castiel fumbled to his feet and pursued.

     “Stop. I order you to stop!” Castiel yelled. Could this be the criminal? It had to be, who else would be in the building?

     “You order me?  You and what army?” The man called over his shoulder. Castiel thought he might have heard a breathless laugh.  Most people weren’t sassy when being chased by a federal agent.

      “I am an Agent of the Law,” Castiel threw back, only three steps behind the criminal as they raced up the stairwell.  He was fairly fit, but his muscles were on fire after running up all those stairs.  He grabbed out and caught the cuff of the criminal’s jeans, but was quickly kicked off.

      The door at the end of their climb crashed open with a bang that resounded in the silence of 2a.m. Soft moonlight illuminated the agent’s quarry, and he was finally able to see the despot clearly.

      Castiel reached out once more, latching on to the man’s weathered leather jacket. The criminal turned to him, grappling awkwardly in an attempt to break the agent’s grip.  Castiel wasn’t sure what he was expecting the ne’er-do-well to look like, but it certainly wasn’t what he saw before him. The man was young, not much older than himself, with short mussed hair, a strong jaw, and a constellation of freckles that only highlighted the wicked gleam in his eyes.  Castiel ducked aside just as a fist came flying towards his face. A wicked gleam and a mean right hook.

      The evasive maneuver threw Castiel off enough that the man broke away, racing towards the edge of the roof.  There was nowhere for him to go, unless…..

  
He would have to be mad to try it.

   
     Castiel pulled his gun, finally remembering protocol, and followed the outlaw over the treacherous icy slate.

     “Last chance, stop or I’ll shoot.  You have nowhere to go.   Turn around with your hands in the air.”  Agent Novak shouted.  They were out of room now, they’d reached the edge.  The bright-eyed criminal turned to face Castiel, raising his hands.  He was mere feet away, his cheeks red from the chase, smoky breath swirling into the night. He spared a glance over his shoulder.

     No he wouldn’t.  It was too far – the man would have to be crazy or suicidal to even think about jumping the four-foot precipice between the bank and the building next door.

            “Agent, it’s been a pleasure,” The cornered man saluted.

            “No don-“ Castiel dropped his gun when the man turned to jump. Frozen rooftop betrayed the criminal as he slipped and lurched into the abyss.


End file.
